Asfalttiin, Impervious
by Tamer Lorika
Summary: Finland knows Sweden as his protector, invincible. No one can hurt her, not even his own fear. Soon, he finds he is completely wrong. FinxFEM!Su. For Verboten Byacolate.
1. Chapter 1

**Please excuse the fact that Latvia is completely OOC. This is before Russian occupation, so I don't see any reason that he should be the nervous kid that we see him as usually. In headcanon, (and history-canon) he was a pretty tough kid, for awhile. Maybe that's why he and Peter are often together – he used to be the same as Peter, before life happened and screwed him over?**

**I wrote this for Verboten Byacolate, in an exchange. All of her work is WONDERFUL, but you should definitely check out the Rome X Germania she wrote for me in exchange. Its gorgeous. Really. I must apologize to you, though, dear… because I'm a bad person, this is gonna be in two parts… I didn't get it all done T^T SORRY. But rest assured, the best is yet to come.**

**My prompt was a FinlandxFEM!Sweden – so Sweden is a girl. :3 Which amuses me. Also, sorry for Sweden's name. I couldn't resist.**

* * *

Estonia came to the gate apologizing.

"I'm sorry I took so long to answer!" he gasped breathlessly, as if he had run across the keep. Finland was reasonably sure that he had. "You guys are covered in mud – I'm so sorry, the roads must have been horrible! I didn't mean to drag you out here but –"

"S'fine" Sweden broke in.

And Estonia stopped. Suddenly, Finland was infinitely grateful that Sweden scared the crap out of him. Because that mean she scared the crap out of everyone else.

The whole journey, from the Western City of Lakes to this Eastern Border, had begun with an argument between him and Sweden. That he had lost. Inevitably. Because, even though the argument had been to assert his manliness, in the end he was far too scared to push the issue.

Um. Not scared. Respectful. Of women. Yes. He wasn't scared of a girl.

Sweden had announced it. "M'leavin'. Y're comin' w'me. Not leav'n' y' here were D'nm'rk could find y'," she had mumbled. The length of the speech had been enough to assure Finland that she was absolutely serious. He argued the point anyway.

"I'm perfectly capable of defending myself for awhile! Besides, Denmark is home, licking his wounds. I could take care of the house, keep things under control. I might be your territory, but I'm a man and I can take care of myself."

"I kn'w."

And Finland knew that despite the fact she had acquiesced (and didn't that mean that he had won the argument?) he would still be following her wherever she was going. And so he did, across the entire Baltic on a traditional kind of ship that caused him to be violently ill, followed by weeks of riding on horse-back across Livonia, to the castle that Estonia was inhabiting at the moment. Throughout the entire journey, Sweden had done her best to make sure that he was happy, which made him flush with pleasure exactly half a moment before he became embarrassed and uncomfortable, which, in turn, was exactly half a moment before he tried to argue with Sweden about whatever she was doing (sharing blankets, catching extra food, awkwardly patting his back as he threw up over the side of the boat) and found that one look at her face was enough to terrify him out of his wits.

She was not ugly. That was not the issue. In fact, the moments that Finland watched her, fast asleep on their shared bed (not like that. Really. She was just very protective of her protectorate) , her face relaxed into something sharp and fierce yet intensely beautiful, full of some sort of ingrained compassion that Finland ached to touch her. But he wouldn't. Because she was a woman. And he wouldn't do that to a sleeping woman.

Not because he was afraid that she'd wake up.

So, here they were, at Estonia's house and Finland was reasonably sure they were there to defend their borders against the large, awkward youth that seemed to loom on the other side of the river, all violet eyes and large bones and a strange white cloth draped around his neck like a noose. Sweden hadn't volunteered any information about their purpose here at all; Finland had gleaned it on his own.

"Come in, come in," Estonia urged, ushering them inside the walls and across to the small keep. It wasn't a large fort, and seemed fit to bursting with an army of unusual size. "I'm so sorry – Latvia and Lithuania showed up, along with much of their armies, just like you ordered, Sweden –" He gave her a nod, but seemed to be speaking directly to Finland. "- but this is a really small castle and I really only have one room left at all and while I'd love it if the lady could sleep alone – " Again, he nodded at Sweden "Latvia and Lithuania are already staying in my room and there's nowhere to put you, Finland, and I figured if you had to room with anyone, Sweden, it should be someone you're used to. I-is that okay?" He was staring at the ground.

"S'fine." Sweden mumbled almost immediately. "W're used to't."

Estonia flushed. So did Finland.

"Not like that!" he sputtered. Sweden gave him a confused look. Estonia flushed deeper.

"Of course." He said. "Um… would you like to get cleaned up? I wasn't able to draw baths or anything yet but there should be hot water up in your room so you can clean your faces and such and relax after your trip. Really, I appreciate you coming to help."

For a slow, short moment, Estonia looked full into Sweden's face, gratitude colouring his voice. He looked away just as quickly, flinching. If Finland didn't know better, he would have thought that Sweden had flinched as well. Still, they followed Estonia up to their room.

* * *

He hadn't been lying about the fort being full. The keep itself seemed about to overflow with humanity, the regular servants and staff overcome with those that inevitably followed the armies that had arrived. Most of the soldiers were, obviously, quartered outside the keep walls, but officers and high ranks took advantage of the presence of a castle and insinuated themselves within its walls as much as they could.

During dinner, Finland took time to catch up with the Baltic brothers. He and Estonia talked animatedly about past happenings, Lithuania and Latvia participating in the conversation at times. Sweden, seated beside Finland, was silent, eating quietly and finishing quickly. She excused herself before dessert. Finland watched her go, her body tall and strong and dressed as a man's would be but full of curves. He both relieved and upset.

Estonia elbowed him in the side as soon as she was out of earshot.

"Finland, are you okay?"

"Y-yes, of course, I was just –"

"No, I mean, in general. Living where you are. With _her_."

Finland bristled a little, for reasons he could not explain. "Her name is _Susan._ Or Sweden. Not 'her'."

Estonia fixed him with a knowing glance. "She scares you."

"I'm not the only one," mumbled Finland, on the defensive. "It's not her fault. She just tends to glare. She's tall and a little intimidating and yeah, it scares me, but it scares you too."

"I know. She does," agreed Estonia amiably. "I'm not attacking your masculinity. I'm just making sure you're okay. She seems the kind who would beat you if you did something wrong."

Finland's ears turned positively crimson. "She'd never! She's nice to me and takes care of the land and we never talk or anything anyway and she's even letting me keep reindeer in the barn!" He was even allowed to name them – Comet and Cupid and Vixen … he didn't understand why Sweden had mumbled "…str'nge…" when he had told her.

Estonia shook his head. "Fine, fine, excuse me for being concerned. She's just… well, I admire her a bit. Did you hear about Denmark?"

"… um, sure?" In fact, Finland had not heard "about Denmark". He knew that the man was still mad about their recent flight and their dissolution of the Kalmar Union, and he had been plotting… something… and every few months Sweden would disappear for weeks at a time in an effort to thwart whatever he was up to, but not much pierced the inherent calm of their cottage in the northern forests. He hadn't even heard Sweden mention his name for a long time, and whenever she returned home from campaigns…well, she was never the type to volunteer information, anyway.

"You haven't heard?" asked Latvia, who had been eavesdropping. He was a strong young lad, usually, although Finland noted with a sort of worry that he was much thinner than the last time they had met; jumpier, too, often looking out the window of the keep as if he could see across the river to the enemy they were up against. He hoped that the deterioration was only temporary. He had a soft spot for Latvia.

"Sweden has been out kicking _ass_!" announced Latvia, almost proudly, as Lithuania turned and poked his temple.

"Language!" the brunette chastised with a long-suffering sigh. Latvia grinned mischievously.

"Anyway, she's been great – Denmark keeps sending out raiding parties and stuff, to the coast and along trade routes and he's trying to start a _war_ but Sweden keeps swooping in like, like, those Valkyries you were telling me about, and kicking him all the way back to his house. This is the third or fourth time, I'm sure – and yet she's still out here, defending _us_ from this Rus kid. I mean, who doesn't get tired and beat-up from all that fighting? She must be invincible."

Lithuania shook his head wistfully. "Latvia, you know that is impossible. Eventually, we will all become something else. No one is invincible."

Finland frowned, trying to dispel the image of Sweden as a traditional all-wings-no-clothes Valkyrie from his head. Latvia's words had struck a chord. He had known that Sweden had been out defending her land from Denmark – she had been out defending _him_. But whenever she returned home, it was always in the same, quiet spirits she had left. He never really _thought_ about it. She must be tired. He wondered what kept her fighting. None of them, sitting at this table, could do it, he thought. Not even him. He didn't see the point. He didn't have much to fight _for._

_Maybe she has a reason to fight_, he thought to himself. _Something we're missing. Something to love about freedom or land or power that we just don't have._

He yawned and stretched, still thinking.

Estonia jumped into "host-mode", something he seemed to be a natural at. "You must be pretty tired; that journey can't have been fun. Do you want to go to sleep now?"

Finland nodded. "Yeah. I'm pretty exhausted. It'll be nice to have a bed again."

"You sure you don't mind sleeping with _her_ – I mean, Susan?"

Finland rolled his eyes. "I told you. It's fine. We _are_ kind of used to it – at least on the road, she gets really protective and insists that we're in the same tent." And he wasn't going to admit it to _anyone_, but those nights he felt safer than he ever had. He might have his pride, but he also knew he's much rather be taking care of animals or growing vegetables than fighting, and he wasn't very good. Sweden was. And she made sure that he was okay.

"Well, if she beats you –"

"Estonia, if you weren't our host, I'd smack you." said Finland sweetly, smiling. He headed up to his room.

* * *

Sweden was there, shrugging out of her leather vest and untying her boots. Finland entered, catching her standing at the washbowl, barefoot, severe braid of hair let down into something loose and faintly beautiful, wearing only the loose breeches and tunic they had worn on the road almost all the way here. Finland froze, feeling like he was doing something dirty, staring at her when she was like this, her face turned, her guard down – it was wrong, as if he was staring at her without clothing. She seemed… vulnerable.

He was about to turn around, duck out, leave her in peace, when she caught his movement out of the corner of her eye and faced him. The spell was broken, the glare was back, and there she stood in all of her fierce and frightening glory. Finland blinked, feeling a stutter in his heart that was definitely dread. She was so kind but… all the glaring – did she hate him? Was he a disappointment? Slight insecurity stirred in his chest. The way she treated him seemed kind, but maybe impersonal, as if he had done something wrong. What did he do that always seemed to upset her so?

"Even'ng," she mumbled.

"Ah, good evening Sweden!" blurted Finland, falling into his traditional method of dealing with stress or anxiety – babbling. "I was just going to bed; it's been such a long ride and I'm excited for a real bed. I bet you are, too, huh? Of course, I didn't expect that we'd be sharing a room. If it were up to me, we'd have separate rooms, you know? Even if I had to room with Estonia –"

"Sep'rate rooms?" Sweden interrupted. "Y'like that better?"

"Well, you know! For propriety's sake!" announced Finland. "Wouldn't do for a man and woman to be sharing a bed, right?"

"Y'r uncomf'rt'ble?"

"Oh, well, you know!" Finland said again. "A little, but I can deal, right?"

Sweden just nodded curtly, turning back to the washbowl with an abruptness that threatened to topple it.

Finland just stared for a moment longer, then sat on the bed and kicked off his boots and socks. He'd wear his travelling clothes tonight and then see about washing them in the morning, he decided. He still had a clean pair of breeches and a few shirts that were relatively unsoiled, so it wasn't much of a big deal. Sighing contentedly, he eased himself back onto the straw tick mattress, comfortably wiggling into the relative softness of Estonia's homespun sheets and thick covers. It really was much better than sleeping on the ground, or in a boat – although his bed at home, the one Sweden had made him, was still incomparable. But this was definitely nice.

"Mm… g'night Sweden," he murmured into the pillow, his eyes already beginning to droop. "Blow out the candle when you're done, please?"

The candle was blown out almost immediately, but Finland was already asleep, and didn't notice.

* * *

Despite the fact that he had been looking forward to a real bed for a long time, Finland hadn't slept well. He never actually woke up during the night, but rather fell recklessly from one strange dream to another, dreams of fire and conquest and rocking storms on a taut ocean. And he was alone, but one – each dream, it seemed like he was the only soul in the world, against some nameless, faceless enemy that loomed over him like dread. Finally, as morning light peeked through the thin sliver of window cut into the wall, his eyes opened fully and completely. For a long moment, he laid there, chest heaving, feeling empty and panicky.

He'd had these dreams before, many times, especially back at home. The surfaced and swirled during Sweden's many campaigns, making it impossible for him to sleep properly at times. But they hadn't plagued him at all since their journey started, and he had hoped that perhaps they were gone for good. Yet now, off the road, he was back in the same rut.

Concerned, he rolled to face Sweden. He hoped he hadn't kept her awake with tossing and turning and such – but she wasn't there. The sheets beside him were empty; in fact, Finland had rolled over and was splayed out over most of the bed himself. Something about the empty bed and the horrible dreams left him with a thick sense of doubt in his stomach, as if something were missing.

_Well, of course its hard to get used to it_, he told himself, _after weeks on end sleeping cramped in a tent, waking together before first light... I'm just disoriented, and surprised to have all this room._

He sat up, stretching and yawning mightily, as Sweden walked through the door. He smiled sheepishly at her.

"Morning, Sweden," he said quietly. "What're you doing up so early? Did I wake you last night?"

She shook her head. "W'nt t'see 'f I could get m'clothes w'shed," she replied. "S'all."

Finland noticed, vaguely, that she was wearing the same outfit as she had the night before, plus boots, not having changed when she woke up. Her hair was still loose and long, although for some reason it had bits of straw or hay tangled in the ends. He raised an eyebrow.

"Sweden, you have straw in your hair."

"Oh," she said, eyes widening and cheeks going pink. "Tha's…str'nge…" she moved over to her bag to grab a hairbrush. Finland caught sight of her clean clothes inside, neatly folded and packed away. He frowned, but before he could say anything, she had re-buttoned the flap and was walking out the door, hairbrush in hand.

"Lavat'ry," she mumbled by way of explanation.

Finland watched her go, then scrambled over the mattress to her bag. Sure enough, all her clothes were in there; she had been lying about getting them washed. Finland frowned, upset despite himself. Why did she lie to him? They were… friends, or something, he had thought. He had never lied to her. Ever. And he was pretty sure she had never lied to him, but…

Quite frankly, Finland didn't know _what_ to think. He shook his head, getting out of bed and splashing water on his face. He'd figure it out later. Now that he and Sweden were in Estonia's house, they had work to do –

In the next second, Sweden had torn into the room, boots skidding on the flagstones as she dashed headlong in, swiping her bag and sword from where she had stashed them on the floor. Her hair was back in its plait, her visage seeming less tired. And furious.

"Grab y'r s'rd," she mumbled, and Finland had to take a moment to realize that she was talking about his _sword_. He snatched his weapon immediately, recognizing Sweden's serious tone – well, more serious than usual.

"Swe –"

"Rus th'nk th'can 'ttack us," she grunted by way of explanation as Finland wriggled into his boots and clipped on his swordbelt. "Seems w' got h're just in time."

She dashed back out the door, Finland on her tail. As soon as an emergency occurred, all awkwardness, all fear, was dropped. They both knew they had work to do, and they knew how to do it. Together.


	2. Chapter 2

**Lame chapter, I know… I swear, Bya, you're getting what you ask for! Its just… taking longer than I imagined… *bows***

**Hey, forgot to mention – this is based loosely on a real battle in which Russian forces did try to make their way into Estonia. But, um, that's probably the only thing that is accurate. So lets just make this for fun and not historical bent, shall we~~ *hides***

* * *

Battle called, and their awkwardness dissolved into hard routine, into trust and duty.

He and Sweden had rushed to the wall-top at the first clarion call of danger. Russian forces were attempting to ford the river, but they had not counted on the sheer number of Estonian soldiers that could not be housed inside the fort walls, and were spread out across the fields outside the structure. At first, the Russian army were easily repelled. Sweden squinted fiercely at the tide of river, the tide of soldiers, watching the exchange. It seemed straightforward; it seemed as if the Russians were running straight to their deaths. Foolish. Finland smiled quietly in a self-conscious display of bloodlust, confident that things were under control.

Sweden was not so relaxed.

"C'me on. Th'y're gonna g't th'mselves killed," she grumbled, sweeping down the wall-steps and through the gates, thrown open so that officers could reach their wayward charges. She pushed her way through foreign men, through her own, tall frame demanding attention and respect. Finland followed behind, feeling timid, all eyes on them. On _her_. He had to remind himself that the respect was not for him. He simply walked in her wake, obedient. If he were to be honest with himself, he _liked_ it that way.

"Oi, m've!" she ordered gruffly, coming upon the knot of jostling soldiery. They were practically mobbing the riverbank, jostling for their chance at a kill. Finland winced at the look in their eyes. _Glory_, they seemed to think. _This is glorious_.

Finland knew better. He would know better than most, the dangers of war. He was a spoil, himself, after all.

"M've!" Sweden repeated, her voice clear and resonating. This time it caught the attention of some, the men in the back of the mob, or those not participating at all. Finland's eyes darted around, noting that none of the officers seemed keen on helping her get order. They were in a huddle, far away. Even they were afraid of the warrior-woman.

"I s'd –" she took a deep breath, frustration bowing across her already sharp expression. "MOVE YOUR ASSES!"

The words were perfectly clear. All the soldiers in earshot, up to the middle of the mob, stopped in their tracks and turned on the tall, glaring nation, standing straight and furious in front of them. The only sound was the continued work of the Estonian forces near the front, still defending the riverbank.

"Th'nk you," she muttered. Finland would have laughed a little, at the obvious sarcasm, at an unprecedented joke from Sweden. If he hadn't been as frightened as the rest of the soldiery.

"N'w. Y'r all gettin' d'stracted," she scolded. "F'rm up into y'r ranks, and I mean now."

They snapped into place – a ragtag, international bunch, keeping order as best they could. The cowed officers took their places at the ranks' heads, but it was obvious who was in charge there. And it wasn't them.

"D'n't y'think this is too easy?" she demanded. Then she waited, as if expecting an answer. There was much shuffling of feet and nervous jangling of armor, Finland included. Of course, he should have seen it before; it _was_ too easy. The Rus were up to something.

"N'w, I want y'to keep a l'kout b'cause with the footsoldiers comin' at us h're, the c'v'lry 'nd siege f'rces should b'coming around the back at any time. Th'y're c'ming _behind us_." She stressed. Finland never saw her quite so verbose as when she was telling off her troops. He stepped in to help, knowing that despite her confidence, she must be suffering having to speak in public.

"I want those defending the banks to get organized!" he ordered, voice higher and more bell-like than Sweden's, though it carried just as far. "The rest - they're going to attempt to take the fort. I want a group back at the keep, working on siege materials; the rest should be on alert, fortifying the strip from the keep to the river. We don't want to get caught with our forces split."

The soldiers stared.

"Move!" barked Sweden.

No one disobeyed.

* * *

An hour later, Sweden and Finland were up in the battlements, watching the preparations. Sweden was more tense than usual, her shoulders hunched and hands gripping the stone parapet.

They were not looking out over the wholesale slaughter along the riverbank, but rather at the dense forest that was backing the keep.

"Th're gonna be c'ming from this way," Sweden concluded. "'ts the only av'nue left open."

Finland nodded, scanning the thick, dark trees for signs of movement, ears pealed for the jingling of harnesses or the wooden thunk of rolling siege towers. "It's a shame there is so much tree cover," he muttered. "What's taking them so long, anyway? They don't have enough footsoldiers to sacrifice much longer."

Sweden nodded, leaning over the wall-top, as if those few inches forward could sharpen her sight.

There was a strange companionship here. Their minds were focused on the same goal, the same strategy. It was like the two nations knew each other inside and out, for just these moments of strain and tension and battle. _If only the battle could last forever,_ Finland thought, then, shocked, berated himself for the wish. _Never! No more war and death and trading land. I want it over. So things can go back to normal!_

Normal. A lonely bed and a cold gaze and constant tripping around the only other person in his life.

"F'nn, I think I see someth – "

Sweden's warning was drowned by a sharp hiss, then a deep grunt of pain. Finland whirled, knowing the sound with a morbid intimacy.

"Susan –"

"G't _down_!" Sweden shouted, tackling him to the side so that he hit the parapet, slid down it. Barbed projectiles whizzed overhead, and Sweden roared in his ear – "Men! Geddown! Archers, up here!"

Finland looked up into her face, slightly dazed from being thrown into the stonework, her weight atop of him, still not disentangled from the body-shot. He was about to comment – petulantly, maybe, or perhaps a thank-you for keeping him out of the line of fire, but instead he saw why he had heard a noise of pain at the first barrage of arrows. Sweden's tunic was ripped just below the shoulder, a violent red-streaked arrow-graze shining against her pale skin.

"Susan…" he said, normal etiquette slipping, her human name sliding out as he began to worry. "You're injured, we should –"

"S'nothing," Sweden mumbled, her face flushing. With a start, as if only now she had realized their positions, she scrambled back, shifting her cape over the wound in the process. " 've had worse."

"But, Su – Sweden!" Finland fussed, but she just glared at him.

"Said 've had worse. N'w let me c'mmand m'troops," she ordered icily. Finland could not reply, watching her stand, in full line of fire, and walk regally down the parapet. Not a single other arrow touched her, and she roared fire and brimstone at the defenders.

The battle was on.


	3. Chapter 3

**There are a billion and a half things I SHOULD be working on. This isn't one of them. Oh well - I'm enjoying it anyway. (Bya I'm soooo sorry this is taking forever... T^T IT HAS TAKEN OVER - BLAME SWEDEN)**

**

* * *

**

Finland spent the rest of the day running up and down the parapets at Sweden's command, shouting at troops and taking control as best he could. There was a vicious battle going on at the base of the wall, and Finland realized with pride that those Rus had made a severe tactical error.

The Rus' plan had been to distract the Estonian forces with an attack at the riverbank, and come around to lay siege to the castle, using the cavalry and assembled forces to decimate the defenders on the ground and the river. What they hadn't counted on was the sheer _number_ of Baltic and Scandanavian forces being poured into the venture; from the viewpoint of the Russian stronghold across the river, they could not see the extent of the soldiers' camps. By now, though the Rus were still doggedly attempting to establish a siege force on the castle proper, they were being soundly beaten back to where they had come by a disciplined, multi-ethnic force, lead by none other than Sweden.

She had left Finland on the parapets, in charge of archers and the like, causing havoc from far away and making sure no one made it to the castle walls if they slipped past the first line of defense. Finland was vaguely grateful for the assignment. As much as he felt the need to assist in the battle, he had never been good at close-quarter combat. He didn't like the feeling of bodies around him, beneath him, beside him, the heat and confusion. Instead, he took up post at the top of the parapet with the best-eyed archers and drew his bow.

That was alright, he thought, being able to kill from afar. Something satisfying in it, staying above the fray, able to pick and choose targets – and the ones he chose, he _hit_.

It gave him time to watch Sweden, too…

She was beautiful, he was incapable of denying that. Something about her astride her charger, riding straight-on like a man, armor at a minimum and braid swinging free of her burnished helmet, fingers and arms stained red. It wasn't her blood, but that of her enemies. Finland would know; he had seen her connect every blow, had been witness to every splash of crimson on her.

The sun was beginning to set, and the Russians knew they had to give in. Finland could see it clearly – their unfortunate force was facing west as they fought, and the sun was beginning to blind them. The combined Estonian defenders were slowly pushing the Rus back. They took no quarter, no room for prisoners. Some of the Rus turned tail completely and began to run. They were in retreat.

A concerted roar flung itself up from the tired and victorious defenders, and the leader of the Rus turned around, just once, to stare at the castle behind him. He was only a teen, hair fine and blonde and eyes deep and sad and violent purple. He glared at Sweden with a deep and petulant hatred.

"I'll take something yours!" he called to her in broken Finnish. Finland knew that Sweden could not understand, but he could. He hung on the words. "I'll take what belongs yours, and I will make him one for me," Then he stumbled, obviously clumsy with the language, then turned and spurred his horse cruelly on, towards the river and towards safety.

Sweden watched him go, then turned to stare up at Finland, who was hanging over the edge of the parapet. He gasped in surprise when their eyes locked; she glared at him balefully, shaking her head quietly, her face echoing what Finland had gathered from the Russian's speech.

_This isn't over…_

Finland just shrugged, flashing her a lopsided sort of smile, flush with victory beyond any dread he might feel. Sweden frowned, but turned her horse around, began to return to the castle. Finland disappeared from the parapet, intent on meeting her.

She was already stabling her charger by the time that Finland reached her. She slipped off her horse, stripping off her helmet before guiding the horse indoors. Finland jogged up to her, frowned, and met her eyes.

"Let someone else take care of the horse, we have to fix your arm," he said.

Sweden glared at him, obviously disliking being ordered around. Finland, for once, found himself undeterred by her gaze. He was single-minded in his intent to stop the bleeding on her upper arm – the arrow graze had turned puffy and angry during the day, aggravated by irritation and abuse.

They stared at each other for a long moment, Finland's icy violet-blue eyes staring into blue-green. Finland blinked. He'd never noticed what a pretty color Sweden's eyes were – he'd never been able to keep her gaze for long. She was flushing slightly under his scrutiny, a faint dusting of pink on her nose and cheeks. Perhaps she was getting a fever – was the wound infected?

"Come on, Sweden," Finland said, tugging at her arm a little. "Let's go."

She sighed, handing over the reins to a stable boy nearby. "J'st a graze, but 'f it'll stop y'from both'ring me…"

Finland didn't know _what_ to make of the way her lips quirked upward slightly at her words, but he couldn't help but think that it was quite pretty.

* * *

Almost an hour of stinging medicine, rough linen, and intimidating the medic later, Finland deemed Sweden in acceptable condition and let her dash out of the makeshift infirmary that had been erected inside the keep. The officers were being treated there, and both nations felt lucky that there were few injuries to speak of.

Estonia came in from surveying the state of the soldiers camped outside, a victorious grin on his face. He didn't stop walking, just grabbed Finland by the arm and dragged him into the Great Hall, where the castle's few kitchen servants were erecting a quick meal for the group. He sat Finland down at the head table, babbling all the while.

"Well, we've done it for sure!" he announced. "Those Rus are well and totally decimated – you can see their camps from across the river and its almost empty! We lost a few good men ourselves…" he crossed himself, then drew his own pagan sign against evil over his heart. "But in all – few casualties."

"It's all thanks to your Susan!" Latvia announced, bouncing into the conversation, his eyes shining. "She was all _grah!_ And _yar!_ And_ Die, Russian scum!_ And –"

Estonia smacked him on the back of the head. "Sit down – your bouncing is making me queasy."

"I doubt Sweden said much of anything, anyway…" added Finland. "She's not really that type…"

Latvia shifted a little, "Okay, maybe not, but she was definitely thinking it! She wasn't scared, even when that big Rus leader …" Latvia trailed off, shivered a little. "H-he was a bit scary. I'm glad he won't be coming back."

A shadow crossed Finland's face. "Yes… well, I'm glad that we sent him back home, at any rate."

"Where _is_ Sweden, anyway?" asked Estonia. "She's probably hungry. She should be in here, celebrating with the rest of us."

Finland shrugged. "She ran out of the infirmary as soon as she was able. I don't know where she went." It didn't sit well with him, either. As much as she would downplay it, she was hurt. It might not be life-threatening but she couldn't just keep tearing around and not taking care of herself! Besides, there were still enemies out there, and she ought to be inside, safe, where Finland could keep an eye on –

Finland immediately slammed on the mental brakes, unwilling to finish his thought or even scratch the surface of what _having_ said thought really meant about his feelings for Sweden. He shook his head vehemently. Lithuania, creeping in to sit at the table with a worn but happy smile on his face, peered at Finland with concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Fine…" mumbled Finland. "It's rather late, isn't it?"

Estonia shrugged, kicking his feet up onto the table. "Late enough, at any rate. Tired?"

"A bit," admitted Finland, shaking his head again as if to dislodge unwanted musings. "My head hurts a bit, from squinting so much to aim."

"You should have used one of my new longbows today, then," Estonia said. "My people and I have been working on them for years – they're much easier to string, and they aim well!"

Finland smiled a little. "My little Anya was enough for me."

Estonia made a face. "It's really weird that you name your weapons."

"It's really weird that you _don't_," Finland shot back. He had barely eaten anything, and his heart felt odd and off-kilter. It may have been the lingering adrenaline of the day, but all he really wanted to do was go back to the room and sleep. Perhaps Sweden was in there, and he could check on her wound and once he knew she was alright the feeling would go away and…

He abruptly stood. "I'm leaving for bed. I'll see you in the morning, then?"

Latvia nodded happily. "Maybe we'll get another shot at those Russians!" Lithuania just shook his head. Estonia grinned up at Finland.

"Tell your husband that we really appreciated her help today, right?"

Finland knocked over Estonia's chair and walked away, leaving him squawking on the floor.

* * *

Finland opened the door to his room, and immediately deflated, relief surging through him when he saw Sweden on their bed. He even allowed himself a small, fond sort of smile – she was fast asleep, sword in hand and polishing cloth in the other. Her glasses were askew, pressed up against the bridge of her nose, and she was snoring quietly. Even in sleep, she never lost her fierce features, but they softened somewhat, making her seem annoyed and harmless.

Finland crept around her, unlacing his boots and shucking his tunic. He decided to sleep in only his loose pants, feeling rather tired and unwilling to actually change clothing before bed. He had brought nightclothes, but hadn't felt comfortable wearing them on the road; even less so now.

Sweden was still conked-out-asleep, and Finland rolled his eyes, clambering onto the bed and scooting over to her. He leaned over, attempting to take off her glasses without waking her. He found himself leaning awkwardly across her body, their faces a mere breath from each other, noses brushing. Up close, one feature at a time, she was certainly less than frightening …

And then her eyes blinked open. Finland let out a startled squeak, dropping the glasses back onto her nose and falling backward across Sweden's lap. He scrambled to his knees, eyes wide.

"I'm sorry! I know it looks weird and I didn't mean it to look weird but when I walked in, you were fast asleep and you looked comfortable or at least not uncomfortable and you worked so _hard_ today, plus you're hurt, so I couldn't just wake you up – but you were wearing your glasses still and you'd probably be more comfortable without them plus you'll get a mark from them if you sleep in them and –"

Sweden just stared at him in bewilderment, letting him babble until he trailed off into an awkward silence. He was being scrutinized and he hated that – she was staring at him too much, he didn't want so much attention…

"Have t'finish cleaning m's'rd," she said at last. Finland wondered why the word "sword" gave her more trouble than most words.

"O-okay –"

"Go t'sleep," she ordered.

"Okay… Um… come to bed soon, alright?" Finland asked. "You worked hard today, and you need to sleep."

Sweden was facing away from him, and he couldn't see her expression, but he could see her shoulders tense and hunch with his words. Finland flinched – had he made her angry again?

"I will."

Finland stared at her for a long moment. When she did not turn around, he lowered himself gingerly into the bed, pulling the sheets and blanket over him and closing his eyes. Again, he didn't notice the candle being carefully blown out – he'd already fallen into his dreams.


End file.
